The Perfect Souffle
by parischangedher
Summary: The Doctor helps Clara to make her first perfect souffle in the Tardis. Fluffy. Oneshot.


Clara walked up to the Doctor, who was adjusting some controls on the Tardis console, with a bounce in her step and a grin on her face. He turned from the lever he was working on and smiled back at her. "Where are we off to today?" he wondered, half to her and half out loud to himself.

"Well, I am the boss, aren't I?" When she got no response, she smiled and asked again. "_Aren't I?"_

He rolled his eyes playfully at her. "That is what I said, yes. What_ was_ I thinking?"

Clara laughed. "Either way, I know where we're going today."

He raised his almost non-existent eyebrows at her. "Oh really? Where are we going then, Miss Clara?"

"We are going to the kitchen, and you're going to help me bake a soufflé. It is about time that I make a perfect one."

He chuckled. "We don't have a kitchen, we are on the Tardis!"

Clara grinned and stood on her tiptoes so she was eye-level with him. "Then make one with one of those little levers."

"Fine," he said as he walked to the opposite side of the console and pressed a certain series of buttons and adjusted some controls. Clara followed him and peeked over his shoulder, a satisfied smile on her face.

The Doctor turned to face her and couldn't resist smiling at how excited Clara looked. "Done?" she asked.

He nodded. "One kitchen, ready and waiting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Then what are we waiting for?!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the nearest hallway, with him laughing behind her.

"Clara! You do not know where it is!"

She stopped and turned to face him. "Who's to say I did not look at that map on the console when you so brilliantly decided where to put it, hmm?"

He didn't think of a clever enough response to this before Clara continued on her mad dash to the new kitchen. He was impressed by her – again. Not that he would admit it to her of course (he has already told her she was the boss, which, actually, couldn't be closer to the truth), but he loved how she constantly surprised and challenged him. She was exactly the type of person he needed with him while making life or death decisions on foreign planets across all of space and time. She was smart, and she was not afraid to speak her mind; if she had an opinion, he could be sure that he would hear it.

Surprisingly to the Doctor, Clara pulled him to the kitchen successfully. He had to stop short to avoid crashing into her, because as soon as she laid eyes on the room she froze and her jaw dropped in awe.

He smiled. "You like it, then?"

She could only nod as she finally released her grip on his hand and moved about the incredible kitchen he had made _for her_. She was in a baker's heaven. There were sparkling marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, an executive chef sized refrigerator and stove, and a premium double oven. There were paintings on the beige walls and a few moderate sized chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. In the back of the room there was a small granite table with four chairs, and the floor was a light pigment of shining wood.

There were two sets of oven mitts on the large center island, and Clara smiled as she saw they were both designed to be images of the Tardis. She grabbed the second set and threw her arms around her Doctor. "It is beautiful; thank you."

She eventually released him and happily handed over the spare mitts. "We wouldn't want you getting burned, now would we?"

He smiled. "Clara, I'm really not a very g-"

He was interrupted by her shushing him by putting a finger up to his lips. "Doctor, you created this wonderful, beautiful kitchen not for me, but for _us._ You need to help me bake the perfect soufflé. I am the boss, remember?"

He nodded, and she smiled and dropped her finger. "Good. Now, let's begin."

As they worked, they discovered that the Doctor wasn't nearly as bad of a cook as he thought he was. They talked of where they were going to travel next, and as they waited for the soufflé to be done Clara told him about her late Mother. She smiled and understandably looked a bit distant when she spoke of her, but t the Doctor did not mind. He better than anyone could understand what recalling fond memories of late loved ones felt like. He actually quite liked seeing her be nostalgic, and he was absolutely honored that she was sharing her memories with him, of all people. He understood why the soufflé recipe was so important to her, and the fact that she wanted to bake one with _him _touched his heart in ways he could not explain.

After some time, the timer they had set beeped and Clara burst out of her seat with a smile on her face. "Come on, clever boy," she exclaimed as she ran to grab her mitts and open the oven, with the Doctor at her side.

She took out the soufflé and set in on the stove to cool. "It's not burned, that's a good sign!" the Doctor remarked.

They waited about five to ten minutes for it to cool, as Clara's mother always did, and then the Doctor cut a small piece for each of them.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and they both tried it together.

The Doctor thought it tasted heavenly; but, as this was the first one of Clara's that he tasted, he refrained from commenting. Instead he watched as a smile brighter than any star he had seen thus far in his travels graced his companion's face.

"This is perfect, Doctor. We did it!" she jumped into her Doctor's arms so forcefully that he staggered back a couple inches. He grinned as Clara hugged him tight and kissed him gently on the lips.

"We make quite the team, don't we?" he said after she finally loosened her grip around his shoulders.

"Yes we do, Doctor. We definitely do."


End file.
